Kyman Zombie AU!
by Purple Dildoes
Summary: Kyle Broflovski is just trying to keep his little brother alive. Eric Cartman is all alone, with only his combat skills to help him survive. If anyone has suggestions for a better title, please tell me.
1. Chapter 1

(A/N: This chapter is more of an introduction than anything else. It's short, but ENJOY! Also, if anyone has any suggestions for the title, it would be greatly appreciated!)

I was awoken by the sounds of dull thuds at the door. I shot up out of bed, grabbing the rifle my parents had me keep next to me while I slept. I still kept it there, solely out of habit

'Just in case,' they said. 'You'll never use it,' they said.

I spared a quick glance across the room to where my little brother, Ike, was fast asleep. That kid could sleep through anything. Tornadoes, hurricanes, the apocalypse...

That may sound like an exaggeration, but we are literally experiencing the apocalypse right fucking now. Those thuds at my door? Blood-thirsty zombies. Or brain-hungry would be more accurate.

I send a quick prayer up to a god I'm not supposed to believe in before going over to the window. Sure enough, three or four zombies are stumbling around outside my house, and a fifth is pounding stupidly at the door. I wonder if it was some kind of delivery person when it was still human...

I quickly brush these thoughts of these monsters being anything but... Well... Monsters out of my head. Softness gets you killed.

I open the window, pointing my rifle down at them. I get one right in the head-a lucky shot-and two more on the arm. The first one automatically drops down, even more dead than it was before. I hear Ike quietly sobbing. More likely a night terror than anything else. I aim my gun again, and manage to take out the delivery person zombie. The thudding on the door stops, leaving only the sickly moans of the three survivors. I manage to get one in the chest, and it collapses. This gives me a chance for an easy headshot. Three down, two to go.

The other two seem extremely confused as to what happened to their "friends", and are now just staring at the ground. Idiots, I think as I take them both out.

I put the safety back on the rifle, and place the rifle back besides my bed before going over to Ike's bed.

"Hey there, what's wrong?" I ask in a gentle tone, putting a hand on Ike's back. He's still gently sobbing, and I can tell he's trying not to. Despite the whole zombie apocalypse thing, Ike is still going through a "too manly for emotions" phase.

"N-nothing." Ike mumbles, keeping his head turned away from me. "I-I'm just tired. Leave me alone, Kyle."

I sigh, and start rubbing circles on his back. "Was it a bad dream?" I ask.

Ike nods in reply.

"Oh... Wanna talk about it?"

He shakes his head no. I decide to stay silent at this point, and continue comforting him, waiting for him to go back to sleep. I'm just glad he's letting me do this. Most nights he'll just tell me to fuck off, that he's not a baby.

Eventually, his silent sobs die down, meaning that he fell back asleep. I stand up, fixing his blankets, and go back to my own bed. I lie there, staring at the ceiling and thinking about whatever comes to mind until eventually, I, too, fall asleep.

Just an average Saturday night at the Broflovski residence, courtesy of the zombie apocalypse.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, I am awoken by the sun hitting my face, as usual. I groan, twist, and turn before I grudgingly get out of bed. Every day, there's work to do, and lots of it. Wether it's checking traps for fresh meat (and making sure that no zombies got to it first), or looting abandoned houses, there's always something. I look over at Ike. Of course, he's still fast asleep. I let him be, at least for now, and go downstairs to make breakfast.

Back when this whole thing started, Mom and Dad managed to get us a generator. As long as you kept it full of propane, it provided all the electricity we needed. This meant we were fortunate enough to have a working stove, refrigerator, and lights. We were very careful with it, though.

I plug in the fridge before opening it. Inside is mostly random chunks of various animal meats, along with a few varieties of wild vegetables and several gallon-sized jugs of purified water.

Deciding there's nothing breakfast-y enough in there, I close it and open the pantry. Mom and Dad stocked up a shitload of canned and dried food, and Ike and I's looting added to it. I pull out two packets of instant oatmeal. I find it repulsive, but Ike loves it, and he could use a pick-me-up if his dream last night was bad enough that he let me actually comfort him.

I prepare the breakfast and put it in two bowls before going back upstairs and waking Ike up.

We spent a few minutes eating our disgusting sludge in silence. I was the one who broke said silence.

"So... What would you think of building a bigger fence around the house?" I asked.

Ike looked up from his bowl. "What do you mean?"

"Y'know... Build a fence. We can get supplies from the hardware store. This way, the zombies won't wake us up at three AM anymore."

"Sure, whatever." Ike says before digging back into his breakfast.

"It was really bad, wasn't it?" I ask quietly, referring to his nightmare from last night.

Ike puts his spoon down, and nods. I can see his lip quivering, and instantly regret talking. Instead, I stand up and go over to the pantry. I dig around before pulling out a jar of preserved strawberries-another thing Ike loved.

"Do you want some?" I ask, holding up the jar.

Ike looks up at me, and his eyes widen. He nods furiously. "Yes, please!"

I dump about an eighth of the jar into his bowl, and he finishes his breakfast quickly. I choke down the rest of mine before putting the bowls into the sink. Both Ike and I go upstairs to get dressed and ready for the day ahead.

I grab my rifle off my bed, and Ike does the same. His rifle is a smaller version of mine, and believe it or not, it was designed specifically for children.

When they first came out with these rifles, it was when the zombie apocalypse was limited to only a few of the bastards in some far-away country, an it caused a bit of a controversy. Of course, what didn't back in those times?

Mom and Dad had bought one for Ike, claiming they wanted to be safe. This was when they got me my rifle, as well. Dad made both of us train on a daily basis. I thought it was stupid as fuck at the time.

Silly, silly 14-year-old Kyle.

Before we leave, we pack an insulated lunch box with a couple of sandwiches, the jar of strawberry preserves, and two (very large) bottles of water. On the way out, Ike grabs his wagon, informing me that there is no fuckin' way he's carrying fence-building materials halfway across town.

I pull the wagon with one hand, and carry my rifle with the other. I glance over at Ike every once in a while, extremely saddened by what I see. My baby brother, only 11 years old, forced to go through all this shit. Starting with when he was only 9, he was forced to grow up too fast. You could tell by his face, mostly his eyes, that Ike was a kid that has seen some shit.

After an hour or so of walking, we stop to take a drink. Ike and I sit on the edge of the sidewalk, taking small sips of our water and staying completely silent. Once both our bottles have a quarter gone from them, I declare that we need to keep going, and Ike agrees. Unfortunately for us, we had to walk through a good-sized grove of trees before finally getting to the goddamn hardware store. I tense up as we walk under the tall green leaves, and keep my eyes wide open for any sign of zombies.

Halfway through, I hear a rustling in the trees. Cocking my gun, I turn to face the direction from which it came from.

All that comes out from the bushes is a small squirrel. Ike and I laugh it off, but our pace the rest of the way through the forest is much quicker than before.

Finally, we reach our destination. It's just our luck that the doors are automatic. Luckily, the parking lot is pretty much wrecked. It doesn't take long for me to find a piece of concrete large enough to break the glass of the automatic doors. I carefully pick off the smaller shards of glass from the remaining door before I allow Ike to enter. I make sure to bring in the wagon as well.

I'm pleasantly surprised to see that the main things looted from the hardware stores are mostly tools that can be used for weapons-hammers and crowbars and all that stuff.

"Remember, Ike. Fence-building stuff ONLY." I say sternly. "And we can always come back here if we need to."

"Yeah, Kyle, I know." Ike says with a hint of attitude in his voice.

We spend the next hour walking around the store. By the time we leave, the wagon is well-stocked with nails, planks of wood, and a large roll of chicken wire. In order to make more room to hold everything, Ike and I stop to eat our lunch. As with most meals, we eat in complete silence. When we are done, I stand up, and we start the journey back home.

The way back seems shorter than the way there, I think to myself. Ike and I practically run through the forest, and then maintain a casual pace the rest of the way.

When we get home, I bring the wagon into the house. Ike and I unload all the stuff from it, and lock it up in my old bedroom. We haven't seen any other actual PEOPLE in weeks, but we don't want to risk it.

I go outside and I walk around the perimeter of the house a few times, deciding how big to make this fence, and how high I should make it. The bastard zombies can only walk and ram into things, as far as I can tell, so I won't have to worry about any climbers getting in.

After a few minutes of pacing the house, I decide that the main thing I have to worry about is making the fence sturdy.

All of a sudden, I hear slow footsteps behind me. Extremely close behind me. I realize that I left my rifle in the house. Oh god, I'm such an idiot!

Before I have a chance to run, whatever's behind me latches it's hands around my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping this'll be quick.

Before I can die, a gunshot rings out and the grip around my throat loosens. I turn around to see the origin of the gun shot. It's another human! They're pretty far away, which means they must have extremely good eye sight and aim.

The mysterious person is out of sight before I have the chance to thank them.


	3. Chapter 3

I go back inside quickly after that. My stomach is grumbling, and I can tell it's almost dinner time. It's pretty amazing what almost being killed by a zombie can do for a guy's appetite.

I open up the fridge, and pull out some random meats and vegetables. Homemade stew has become one of my specialities. I put a small amount of water in a metal pot and put it on the stove to boil before cutting up my ingredients into small pieces. From the pantry, I pull out a large bag of salt (which Ike and I found out a long time ago doesn't ward off zombies) and put a spoonful into the pot. Once the water is boiling, I dump all my ingredients into the pot.

"Ike! Dinner!" I call upstairs.

When Ike comes down, I can tell that he's been crying. Probably would start up again, if I said the wrong thing. I quickly decide not to tell him about my near-death, or my savior. Instead, I babble on about the fence while occasionally stirring the stew. Ike just listens, nodding every few minutes.

After fifteen minutes or so, I turn the stove off and get out bowls for Ike and I. I fill them both generously and place them on the table. I continue my babbles about the fence as we eat, mostly just to keep it from going into an awkward silence.

Once we are done, I put the bowls in the sink and the rest of the stew in the fridge.

"I'm going to bed." Ike announces, standing up from the table.

"But it's still light outside." I say, frowning. The last time Ike went to bed this early was when Mom and Dad were still alive, and he had a bad fever.

"I know. I'm just tired." Ike says with a scowl. I shrug, and bid him a good-night. He walks up the stairs, and I hear the door to our room slam.

I hate to admit it, but I'm almost grateful for it. Now I can be completely alone with my thoughts. I go into the living room and lay down on the couch, staring at the ceiling and reliving the events of today in my head.

From what I can remember, my savior was on the tall, heavy side. They were also either brunette or dark blonde, most likely the first. I assumed that they were male, but then again they were about ten yards away. For all I know, it could have been just a dog on stilts.

I eventually wake up from a deep doze, but unfortunately it's still dark out. I really hate fucking up my sleep schedule, especially since I had plans for tomorrow. It's damn near impossible to do anything useful at night, since the chance of a zombie attack is greater, plus the whole darkness thing is hard to work around.

I go upstairs, and lay down in my bed. Lucky for me, some exhaustion is still left over, and I pass out within minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

(A/N: Sorry it's taking so long to update . I haven't been focusing as much on this story as I should be, but I DO have six chapters written. Honestly, I'm just forgetting to publish them... Again, I DO apologize for that. Enjoy!)

I wake up to Ike furiously shaking me. I open my eyes to look at my little brother, and I see that tears are flowing down his face.

"Ike! What's wrong?" I ask, sitting up.

"T-there was a-a p-person..." He whimpers.

"Do you mean a zombie?" I ask, pulling him down on the bed next to me.

"N-no. A human. Like.. Like us." Ike lets out a shuddering breath.

"A human?" My mind darts to my savior from the other day. "You're a hundred percent sure of this?"

"Yes, Kyle! It was a fuckin' human!" Ike practically screams.

"Okay, okay..." I say. "Why are you so upset about it?"

"They had... A gun... And were aiming it at the window..."

"And you think they were trying to shoot at us?"

Ike nods.

"Oh, Ike... I'm sure they weren't... It may have even just been your imagination." I say, trying not to sound too scared myself. A sudden thought occurs to me. Maybe... My so-called 'savior' wasn't JUST aiming for the zombie...

"No, Kyle! They were there! Across the street!" Ike insisted.

"Will you feel better once the fence is up?" I ask, knowing that if my assumption was correct, it would have no use.

Ike nods, even though I could tell he isn't convinced in the least.

After that, Ike and I decide to have some breakfast, and then get started on the fence.

The meal conversation was an upbeat one about the fence, what plans we had for it, all that stuff. The mysterious shooter/savior didn't come up in the conversation at all.

Once our meal is finished, Ike and I gather up our fence materials and then go outside. We decide that I'll work on the building, since I already have all the plans figured out, and Ike will make sure nothing-or nobody-attacks us.

As I work, there is no sign of a threat.

Thank god.

Ike and I call it a day practically the second the sun hit the horizon. The day had been productive. All the wooden posts are up, and I'm 99% sure that they're strong enough to last the night.

About two hours in, Ike and I had taken a break to go check our traps. They were all at the edge of the forest, pretty much as far as we could go and still catch stuff but not so far in that it was dark.

In one was a freshly dead rabbit, with no signs of zombie mutilation. I handed it to Ike before moving onto the next trap. Most of them had squirrels, and there were two more rabbits. Out of this, five squirrels had a zombie get to them first, and one of the rabbits was still very much alive. Ike forced me to release it, despite the fact that it was injured. I obliged, but then waited until Ike was a few yards away before quickly shooting it in the head. A quick, merciless death is better than hours of suffering.

Things started getting odd after that. In one trap, was a decapitated squirrel. It's decapitation was too neat to be natural. I shuddered, and pulled it out.

All the rest of the animals in the traps had some sort of body part removed. Each one, like the squirrel, was much too neat to be natural.

Ike and I didn't discuss the animals in our traps. In fact, like most of the time, we didn't talk at all. It was kind of depressing, honestly, the fact that I could barely talk to my last remaining family member. I let out a sigh, and just kept walking.

I was glad that, as soon as we got home, Ike went up to the bedroom. I prepared the meat, and then put it in the freezer. Afterwards, I went outside and sat on the porch.

The sun is setting, quickly making it dark. I go back inside to make dinner, pretending not to notice a suspicious movement in the direction of the forest.


End file.
